Aizome
by Rai-Mun
Summary: Angel Frame overhears the resident Passive Partition discuss the relevance and personal effects Spark Bonds produce between bond mates, and directs her emotional inquires to an amused Omega Supreme. OSxAF; Seraphimverse


**Title**: Aizome  
**Fandom**: Transformers (Seraphimverse)

**Characters**: Omega Supreme / Angel Frame / Constructicons

**Pairings**: Omega x Frame / Passing Mention of Omega x Constructicons / Passing Mention of Trailbreaker x Maya x Blitzwing

**Rating**: PG

**Genre**: Romance / Drama / Humor

**Word Count**: 3,518

**Summary**: Angel Frame overhears the resident Passive Partition discuss the relevance and personal effects Spark Bonds produce between bond mates, and directs her emotional inquires to an amused Omega Supreme. OSxAF; Seraphimverse

**Timeline**: The night before departure; several hours before the Cybertron Defense Team sets of to engage The Fallen and Nemesis Prime (Seraphim)

**Warnings**: Language; Spark Bonding; Transformers x Human Relations

**Disclaimer**: "Transformers" and all related media, merchandise and trademarks belong to the **GLORIOUS** that is HasTak, and I am not making any money whatsoever from using them in this fictional work. I wish I owned Ratbat though. Sadly I don't.

**Notes**: About the title: Aizome (あいぞめ): Indigo Dye. Taking a quick break from "Seraphim" to indulge myself and my desire for sweet, rot your teeth fluffy gooey feel goodness featuring one of my favorite pairings from Seraphim – Omega Supreme and Angel Frame, the titanic guardian robot and the delicate troop transport ship. Various references to other Seraphimverse pairings, and general G1 ponderings about the Constructicons, because seriously – I love those guys, tasteless green-and-purple paint jobs aside. *bricked*

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Angel Frame listened very carefully to the muted sounds of voices vibrating through the length of her hull, bright baby blue optics wide in astounded fascination and mild trepidation behind the tempered glass of her alt mode's cockpit at what she was hearing.

She was in her more commonly adapted interstellar rocket form, all sleek curves and aerodynamic arches and functional kibble. Inside, the Autobot Hilux Camper Truck known as Trailbreaker was leaning against one of the numerous, various crates of supplies and munitions that littered her cargo hold, the cripplingly shy human femme Maya White perched precariously on his shoulder plate. Across the duo the Triple Changer Blitzwing sat in a most relaxed manner on the cool metal floor, not a trace of tension or hostility on his person – Never mind that he had been a Decepticon not more than a few Megacycles ago, having, almost flippantly, defected to the Autobot faction after a rather… _Painful_ falling out with the Decepticon Heinkel He 111 Lugnut resulted in the near extinguishing of his Spark.

Angel Frame, considerably young and having come online only a single Stellar Cycle ago, was still alternately captivated and dismayed at the prospect of a Spark going out – According to what she had been taught, that was an injury deemed absolutely irreparable… And yet, the Pontiac Solstice known as Jazz had the misfortune of experiencing his Spark extinguished during the famed Battle of Mission City only an earth year ago, but there he was, alive and laughing and causing the strategist Prowl no lack of affectionate nuisance!

According to an equally befuddled, if not infinitely pleased Optimus Prime, the All Spark and Primus had brought him back, bestowing upon him a second chance of life – So did that mean, that there were special cases then, exemptions to the rule? Chief Medical Officer Ratchet had snorted most indignantly at the notion, while the engineer Wheeljack had a most contemplative look on his face plates. Strange indeed, all this. She was quite confused…

Shaking her head (Or rather, shifting her cockpit ever so slightly), the Earth Defensor focused again on catching the conversation between the three current residents of her lower levels, rerouting all audio sensitivity to the sensors located along her cargo bay and hoping to gain a better insight on one of the strangest relations in her rag tag group of self proclaimed charges (Lovingly dubbed the Cybertron Defense Team by the humans Sam Witwicky, Miles Lancaster, Rad White, Carlos Lopez, siblings Coby and Bud Chase, and James Lennox) her CPU racing at the prospect of new knowledge coming into light.

"I don't know vhich of you two are currently flooding ze link vith all zese," The strangely German-accented ex-con waived a hand dismissively in the air, monocle'd optic catching the light, "Warm, love love feelings, but if you don't stop –" He of the Icy demeanor was abruptly cut off from his mild berating by Random, who took the opportunity to pounce from his seat on the rocket's floor to half tackle, half hug the only slightly surprised Autobot and even more surprised human, Jack o Lantern face cackling madly in glee. "I'm going to haf to give some back too!!" The MIG-25 cum Assault Tank all but nuzzled the side of his face plates against the smaller Camper Truck's chassis, alternately coddling the small human femme against his cockpit and making small little cooing sounds.

Trailbreaker smiled a smile of one with affection and infinite patience, lightly patting the purple ex-con's helmet as Maya tittered quietly at the tickling motions the large mech's cooing was producing. "Stop laughing, voman, I'm trying to seduce you!" A quiet whirling sound accompanied the sudden, heated outburst, but neither the dark Autobot nor the pale blue eyed blond female paid it much heed – Out of all of Blitzwing's personalities, the fire spewing Hot Head was the one struggling most with expressing his feelings in ways other than 'blowing slag up', but the two had quickly learned to differentiate when the Assault Tank meant to be affectionate and when he meant to rip your optics out by the tailpipe.

Unbeknownst to the trio, Angel Frame watched and listened with an almost obsessive focus and poured more attention into studying their dialogues and movements than she ever did when Bruticus Maximus started another one of his inane rants on how he was "the **SUPERIOR** gestalt". Blitzwing, Trailbreaker, and Maya were as an imperfect and dysfunctional relationship unit as they came, and yet they exuded such love and warmth and tender emotion, it sometimes made her Spark hurt, though Ratchet's scans had shown nothing wrong with her life force.

She watched, once again feeling that dull ache in her Cybertronian equivalent of a heart and soul, as a sleek, ink black Hilux Camper Truck raced out from her cargo hold, quickly followed by a low flying Fighter Jet, who wasted no time in giving chase, Maya's soft giggles audible from the passenger's seat of the racing truck.

Waiting until the ground hugger and high flyer were but a speck in the distant cobalt blue horizon (They had better be back before dark, or Prowl would have kittens), the Troop Transport Ship transformed, internal gears and assorted machinery and the occasional cog twisting and shifting and rearranging themselves as she stood, a vaguely anthropomorphic, humanoid shape rising from where the innocuously large rocket had once been. Stretching lightly, she looked down on herself – A mostly white frame with an electric blue chassis, and the occasional slivers of metallic silver across shoulders, knees, hips, and fingers – Baby blue optics just vaguely visible behind the tempered glass of her helmet, ivory access wings jutting out just so behind her to match the red chevron resting lightly on the top of her helm.

She felt terribly awkward and painfully exposed in this form, so much so that she hardly used it unless utterly, unavoidably necessary. At the moment, if she wanted answers, it seemed that she had little choice in the matter – Her more preferred alt mode would be too much trouble to move about, and after all, the only bot she could think of to go to for answers was more likely to give her more than two worded answers punctuated with a colon if she asked him politely in this form.

She'd have asked the other intellectuals in their crew – Ratchet, the Chief Medical Officer. Skyfire, the explorer and geologist. Wheeljack, the engineer. Perceptor, the scientific Jack of All Trades and her closest friend. Perhaps even _Starscream_, who had defected earlier on (And betrayed them, then defected again, welcomed back only because of the bond he shared with Alexa Pax), for he was a metallurgist and a biologist, despite being such a fearsome Decepticon Air Commander.

But all of them would inadvertedly give her more trouble than a straight answer; Ratchet would stare at her incredulously, then mutter something about 'being young and stupid' before telling her to get out of his med bay and threatening her with a pipe wrench. Skyfire would be condescending (Not on purpose, or so she hoped) about it, crooning over her search for knowledge without actually answering her inquiry. Wheeljack would inadvertedly start with an attempt at an answer, only to be dragged into a different vein of topic altogether halfway through, and when with the engineer, there was always the chance of getting oneself blown up in the process. Perceptor, Primus bless his Spark, would without a doubt loose her in a Klik with his extensive vocabulary and Sideswipe named "geek speak". And Starscream…

Well, let's just say the last time she had approached Starscream with a query on the romantic, the F-22 Raptor had let out a most unholy of screeches (Dear Sigma, he _deserved_ his name), before hastily transforming and taking to the skies, leaving her in an undignified pile on the ground, lost and confused and a little hurt.

So there she was, a ridiculously towering femme, nervously wringing her left hand fingers around the outer rim of her right hand blaster canon, optics downcast as she gingerly approached her fellow (And much older) Guardian Robot, light footsteps one would not associate with such a large frame barely disturbing the ground bellow her. "…O-Omega…?"

The gunmetal grey mech raised his head at the sound of his name, turning so that his clear orange battle mask locked with Frame's own deep blue one, ivory shuttle wings flinching slightly at the slow and deliberate movement. Frame held back the small 'meep' that threatened to spill out of her vocalizers, optics shuttering rapidly as she struggled to speak up. Frag it. For having been created by some of the most cantankerous, explosive, intelligent, and articulate mechs ever to grace the backward planet Earth, she was still so painfully shy around other individuals – Bar Perceptor, but he was perhaps the one bot she could be herself most of all – Stuttering and crippled by silence and a suffocating self consciousness that she couldn't have possibly picked up from any of her creators…

"Angel Frame: A query?"

If Transformers could blush, Frame would be as red as the Lamborghini Countach Sideswipe, her hand and canon coming up over her face mask in a gesture of pure self preservation and utter mortification – Oh sweet Sigma, he was expecting her to continue, expecting her to speak up! Why exactly she had thought this to be a good idea escaped her, the sound of her own erratic Spark beat muffled by the furious whirling of her internal fans and air being expelled from her vents. Gingerly, she stepped closer to the taller, slightly larger mech, metaphorical breath hitching as she came to a stop just outside his arm's reach.

He regarded the smaller, shorter femme with mild curiosity, tilting his head slightly to the side as his own visor'd optics sought hers out, only to be foiled by the light shining of her own tinted helmet, her hand and canon obscuring the lower half of her face plates from view. He moved towards her slowly, moved towards her from where he stood by the precipice of the mountain they used as their temporary base of operations – It was no Nowhere, but at the moment, it would have to do.

Stopping when he was but a breath's distance from Frame, Omega traced a single barrel finger along the side of her helmet, leaning forward ever so slightly so that he could place the body of his blaster canon against her shoulder, easing her down into a sitting position, getting down on his knees and making himself comfortable next to her. "Angel Frame: A query?" He repeated patiently, studying his fellow rocket next to him as she fidgeted apprehensively, raising her head to look up at him most timidly. She was not but a fraction of his age, young and inexperienced and suffering from a most severe case of paralyzing apprehension and self imposed near silence (Symptoms none of her creators could explain) he had ever seen, quirks he had never observed in any other Transformer – Autobot or Decepticon or otherwise.

At length Frame expelled air from her vents, an action akin to a human sighing, turning her head slightly to the side in an embarrassed manner. "I do have a query," She spoke so very quietly, almost as if she were afraid her voice would mar the wonderful stillness before them, "You see, I overheard an interesting notion today," If by overheard you mean went out of your way to listen intently, "And I would like to learn more about it." She unhurriedly lowered her hand and blaster canon from their raised position to rest on her lap, looking back up and catching Omega's optics with her own in an uncharacteristic show of self determination.

"…" Omega studied her carefully, mildly encourage by her sudden spiel, and considered speaking in more than just two, three words and decided that he had received all the necessary prompts to speak normally – He'd have too, if he ever hoped to get the introverted reclusive rocket ship to speak up more. "And what," He began, deep voice rumbling against her audio receptors, "Would that interesting notion be, little one?"

Omega received the very distinct impression that Frame had begun blushing violently, optics growing to the size of saucers as she almost shot out of his arms and into the skies. Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer to his chassis. While she was initially frightened by touch, if you kept at it long enough, she would forget about it all together, and the older mech hoped that he could keep her next to him for just a little longer, if only to hear her query voiced.

"I… That is…"

Frame tripped around her own words, struggling to vocalize the thoughts in her CPU and failing spectacularly. Shaking her head, she clenched her barrel fingers and looked pointedly at the dirt ground, suddenly finding the crumbling rocks as fascinating a scene as if it had come straight from those odd motion pictures – Movies – Their human companions were always watching in her alt mode's rather fabulously furnished recreational room.

"Alink,Iheardaboutalink!"

The Guardian Robot took a moment to play her audio stream back at a reduced speed, mulling over her words for a little longer than was necessary – In fact, he was certain the silence between them had stretched several astroseconds outside of the comfort zone – Before turning to face the innocent, naïve, painfully corruptible little rocket femme and offering her an answer.

"A link," He began slowly, choosing his words carefully as he slid his hand within the younger rocket's own, so that their fingers were interlocked tightly, "A link is the end result of a Spark Bond, little one."

"Spa-Spark Bond?" She said the words in a tone that suggested she felt she was saying something perverse, "Spark Bonding: When two Transformers unite their Sparks so they may always be together; an ultimate expression of love." Angel Frame had always been thankful for the obscuring, often times eclipsing helmet she constantly wore, but nevermore so than she did at that very moment as she felt her jaw literally fall open, a blush rising violently to her face plates as the energon lines there began pumping harder, faster.

Something very hard and very bitter hit Omega's Spark the moment those words left his vocal processors, the terribly distinct memory of a green and purple gestalt turning, ever so slightly, to face him, mouth plates moving into a smile, a city of crystal glimmering ahead of them – No, **stop**. His entire body stiffened, although he was not so aware of it until Frame let out a small, alarmed cry of pain, snatching her fingers away from him and giving him a wide eyed look of confusion and hurt.

"…Are you alright?" Omega was looking directly at her now, worry evident even in his level, baritone voice. Sweet Sigma, but it was difficult to fight back that urge to just take off and run. "No," Frame murmured, so quietly that Omega was not sure whether or not he was supposed to hear it, "I'm fine." She turned her head and stared at the Autobot symbol of arms emblazoned proudly across his chassis, shoulder plates falling slightly, "Are you?"

The question had caught him by surprise – Why wouldn't he be alright? He had not given any indication as to how the topic of Spark Mates had affected him so viciously, so suddenly – Ah, perhaps she had meant his rather involuntary action of squeezing her fingers too hard, yes, that had to be it, what else could it be – "Did I say something to remind you of _them_?" She spoke, even quieter now, vocal processors hitching only slightly at the end of her sentence. Almost as if she was debating something difficult with herself, the Earth Defensor surprised the rocket tank by moving closer, placing the rim of her canon against the side of his pelvic gimbals and laying the side of her head against his chassis.

Perversely, he felt much better – Not so much form her physical touch, but the fact that she had initiated the contact, that she had sensed his sudden bitterness and had acted upon it… "You can talk about it," Her voice was soft and pleasant against his frame, "Talk to me about it."

"I…" Omega paused slightly, running his three barrel fingers down along the length of Frame's back, earning himself a contented little chirrup. "I met the Constructicons such a long time ago… Lightyears and lightyears, I believe, back when I had the privilege of protecting the 'Crystal City', which, ironically," He turned his face to the side, leaning forward slightly so he could rest his chin on Frame's helm. She didn't seem to mind. "Was a city of their creation."

At this the smaller femme looked up at him in surprise, her tinted helmet inches from his sunset hued ones, "You were defending a city they created?" She looked terribly lost just then, and Omega found it increasingly harder to resist his Spark's urgent demands that he bend down and kiss her, "But I thought the Constructicons only created weapons of hate and pain and –"

"They weren't always evil," Omega explained, pulling her smaller frame against his chassis even more, "They were once beings of good – Autobots, no different from you and I." For a moment, his optics darkened, and Frame looked up at him apprehensively, "They were changed… Changed by one of Megatron's machinations… The Robo-Smasher." Frame raised her canon slowly, shyly, tentatively running the rim against his dark red front, her helm coming to rest on a sunshine yellow shoulder plate. "They deceived me… Had me leave the city unguarded… And they destroyed it."

"I tried… I tried to change them back, but the process was… It was…!"

"…Irreversible?" Angel Frame whispered lightly, suddenly feeling extreme guilty well up inside her at the secret knowledge of her somewhat shaky at best secret relations with the Constructicons – Scrapper and Hook and Mixmaster most especially – And the terrible terror at how the larger rocket ship would react to such a viable breach of trust.

"Then the Robo-Smasher attacked me, attempted to sway me into joining the Decepticon cause… It was destroyed before the process could be completed, but…" He pressed against Frame, pulling her closer unconsciously, as though she were some source of comfort, "I lived, but, changed. Since then, I feel only hate for the Constructicons."

Frame looked contemplatively at the older mech, a realization gnawing at the corner of her cerebral processors – Could it be, then, that Omega's usual cold, emotionless demeanor (Quite different from how he behaved before the destruction of the Crystal City) was the result of him retreating into himself and becoming withdrawn because of the pain of betrayal and guilt? Could it be, then, that Omega was…

That Omega was _hurting_?

The thought brought an uncharacteristically sharp sting of pain in the young rocket femme's Spark, thick and heavy and entirely unpleasant. She flicked at a switch just under the rim of her helmet, the tempered glass that served as both her shield and security sliding upward in a hiss of compressed air as she brought her unguarded face close to Omega's own, her fingers finding the same switch in the same place as hers had been on him.

Slowly, almost shyly, but with a definite purpose, the troop transport ship pressed her lip components against his, optics shuttering close as she struggled to convey her compassion and empathy and feelings – Could it be love, maybe, maybe – In that one little unguarded physical act. She was crying, he realized, could feel the emotions she was sending him through her kiss as strongly as if they were blows to his Spark. Frame had hardly said anything uplifting during his monologue, but her presence alone and the utter untainted innocence of her kiss had been enough to make his mood infinitely lighter.

She pulled away at length, too soon in his opinion, and asked, almost coyly, if he was feeling better now. It never failed to amaze him how her occasional sense of humor sometimes proved itself frighteningly parallel to the sarcastic, dry wit of a certain Front Load Loader, and while that in itself was both frightening and refreshing, it was also most certainly, quite interesting.

Yes… Perhaps later, when they had dealt with the threat of The Fallen, perhaps he would ask her if she wanted to establish a link with him… Reflecting on how ironically fitting his name was to the whole situation – "Last of the Best" – He reciprocated by pulling her even closer (Oh, Ratchet would wonder where all that paint transference had come from), and pressing his lip components against hers once more.

"_I'll be your best friend and you'll be my valentine… Yes, you can hold my hand if you want to, cause I want to hold yours too… We'll be playmates and lovers and share our secret worlds…_"

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**Ha**! *confetti throw* And here I thought I wouldn't be able to finish this baby. Not particular to the plot, but I simply had to put that line from "Big Girls Don't Cry" at the end. *bricked* Although since we're talking about the end, I feel that the end was rushed. I didn't mean it to be, that's just how it turned out, in the end. Damnit. Reviews and comments would be much appreciated, while all flames will be directed to the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno. Now if only I could find someone to draw Omega Supreme and Angle Frame for me… *blow kiss*


End file.
